


I was always there for you

by ReturnFrom_86



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnFrom_86/pseuds/ReturnFrom_86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just my idea on how Castiel spent some of his time in the year between seasons 5 & 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was always there for you

Castiel had a war to fight, his generals looked up to him expectantly to lead them and heaven to victory, however their leader's mind wandered. While discussing tactics to foil Raphael's plans, Castiel thought of his friend Dean Winchester. While devising new offensive attacks, he judged them on what Dean would think. While rallying support in heaven, he imagined convincing Dean. Dean was never far from his mind. Castiel would visit the older Winchester in his new life, always keeping hidden of course, the angel would watch the man doing the most menial of tasks for hour upon hour, with a look of wonder on his face as if he were watching God himself create the very leaves being swept up by the human. The early days had been tough, the hunter, for he would always be a hunter in the angel's eyes, did not sleep well. Castiel himself ached seeing his friend in such pain, but could not let himself be known and interrupt this new, safe life Dean was living. The angel would wait as calmly as he could while the man thrashed and sweated and screamed into the covers, until Dean had finally managed to give into exhaustion, it meant time detracted from heaven and battle plans but he was willing to sacrifice the time, then he would rest his palm on the man's damp forehead and sooth away any lingering nightmares. Castiel was naturally curious, especially when it came to this human, sifting through some of the more recurring nightmares his stomach clenched as in amongst the hell memories and the monsters, Castiel found himself counted amongst the people Dean was terrified to lose. Some nights he would leave immediately after helping, but others he would simply stand and watch the man sleep, as the tranquility washed over his friend's face and feel pride that he was still able to watch over Dean.

When his generals brought up his absences, Castiel would spend as little time as possible with Dean, although he found it remarkably difficult as his chest would grow heavy and he felt his grace gradually dull. However the little time he did spend would be full of guilt at having to mostly ignore Dean. The man's face would be wrecked with insomnia, eyes dark and hollow, temper brittle. The fleeting visits Castiel granted himself allowed for only a light brush of the fingers to Dean's shoulders or back, simply easing some of the suffering. Castiel would continue like that until his general's stopped grumbling to his face about his lack of commitment, then would return to give Dean the majority of his attention. His grace would instantly intensify with increased visits.

Summer was a trial for Castiel. The angel watched as his hunter attended and hosted barbecues, manning the grill, chugging back beers and settling fully and comfortably into suburbia. Castiel longed to join the conversations and to make his friend smile and laugh as the others did. Of course he had no clue what anyone was talking about, but he would stand and watch the way Dean's eyes lit up at a particular part of story, or how his whole face would slide from anxious to proud when someone tasted and loved his burgers. Castiel did not need food for sustenance, but how his mouth watered to try them too. Whenever questions were directed at the hunter, Castiel noticed it was almost like he let a mask slip, none of the inquisitors noticed however and lapped up the lies and bravado, but Castiel saw, and the angel hated what he could see under the bluster. The angel yearned to reach out and alleviate the torment, but he needed every ounce of grace he had for the raging civil war above of which he shamefully had been further neglecting. 

When the leaves began to fall, Dean started working in the garden more, the fresh air adding a healthy vibrancy to his eyes which the angel thought was a true miracle and couldn't take his own eyes off of. A sharp wind blew at a pile of leaves the man had been working on, scattering them free again, "son of a bitch", Dean muttered under his breath. Castiel allowed himself a chuckle as he watched his friend stare morosely at the drifting leaves, Dean's eyes suddenly squinted, the laugh dying on Castiel's lips, terrified the man had heard, but Castiel was sure Dean could not have heard him. No, the hunter was staring at something, Castiel moved closer as Dean reached down with a shaking hand and plucked something from his depleted pile. The man cradled it in his hands, eyes shining and features warming around a melancholy smile. The angel was desperate to know what the Winchester had found and was inching his way around for a better view when, "Cas..." Dean breathed. The angel stalled, all of heaven's power could not have started his heart in that moment, and a chill ran through his bodies both celestial and human. "Dean, lunch is ready." A voice called from the house, breaking Castiel's immobility, "on my way," Dean called back, and Castiel's heart fluttered at the way his friend's voice cracked with emotion. The Winchester held his hand out and in his firm grip, a single black feather, not one of Castiel's but enough of a reminder, his fingers tensed and eased off around it, eyes never leaving it, heavy with both belief and doubt. The wind picked up and the feather made a fluttering movement, Castiel caught himself from reaching out and saving it, there was no need, for which he was thankful, as the hunter's strong fingers tightened just in time. "Damn it Cas." He mumbled, tenderly stroking the feather, after taking a shaky breath Dean stowed the feather carefully away in the pocket of his jacket and walking towards the house let out a jovial, whistling tune. An angel of the Lord, one of the most powerful beings in creation, Castiel had witnessed beauties and marvels beyond comprehension, but as Dean had stowed away the feather, Castiel silently stowed away the memory of that fall afternoon as a beacon in his mind to be kept for the rest of eternity and one of the most precious things he owned.


End file.
